Misty Midnight
'Crown's Refuge ' ---- ::Established in the year 625 ATA (After the Aegis), the village of Crown's Refuge was founded by Talus Kahar XIV, Emperor of Fastheld, after he entered exile in the wake of the Ravager crisis. ::The town is built on a hill overlooking the shore of the waterway known within the Aegis as the Fastheld River, west of the great wall as it forms the border of the city-state once ruled by the exile. Here, in the realm known to inhabitants as the Wildlands, the river is known as Jadesnake and it winds its way from the perimeter of Fastheld to the distant sea. ::The town has been formed from timbered wood taken from the nearby forests by citizens, many of whom are descendants of Fastheldian exiles of years past, who have chosen to follow Talus Kahar's lead in this strange land. ---- News has spread that their departure from Crown's Refuge was soon to come. And, as such, Talus' old house has had many nervous eyes on it, keeping watch for signs that the day had arrived. Emerging from said house comes one of the two resident Pathfinders, black hood thrown up over his head as usual to try to keep his ears from freezing off. As well as to ward off any attacks from a certain crow. Why they had chosen to set off in the chill of night when the sun's rays could not power the blood in their limbs, Rowena hadn't the energy to ask. She'd sacrificed an aftermeal snooze to double check, then triple check, that her stores of leaves, roots, and wildling poison were securely sealed and packaged just so in the center of her pack as to avoid any harm. Wrapped in a leaf parchment were the three bread loaves she was able to stuff into the top of things. Now, tromping less than gracefully out with the sack burdening her back, satchel tugging her side, and bladder of water bouncing awkwardly against her hip, the cloak-bundled Duchess is prepared to go. Peeping out from a side pocket of the sack is a pair of quaking, emerald eyes, belonging to none other than the cinder-colored kitten. "You must keep to be still." She notes softly aside to the little feline while following Vhramis's footsteps closely. "'Tis an awful place to become lost." And despite the wickedness that seeped through the pores of this land...there was something about its beauty, its sense of freedom that Rowena would miss. Dark wings, dark words. A phrase often true, but not always so. Especially when the herald of fel deeds and the tales of a troubled realm has learned the art of stating things beyond that which it couriers on parchment. "CORN! CORN!" The shrill yet harsh tones of that declaration speak in a language known to Fastheld, though in a voice that is neither Human, Wildling, nor Drake. No, these are the words of a so called "certain crow" that knife through the otherwise still air of the cold late evening, buffeted by the flurry of black pinions, the flutter of blue tinted wings of jet, and the quite annoying clicking of a beak of dull yellow. The voice that follows in the wake of the demands is, in contrast, the complete opposite of the tones that the Raven speaks. A casual soft purr, draped with mirth and compassion, yet with a regal edge finer than even the sharpest warsword. "Vhramis." the owner of this voice states, hands engaged in the act of strapping two scabbards to the belt that holds them as he pads silently towards the Ranger, "I need a promise from you. Promise me that that Raven of yours isn't going to demand corn from me for the entire journey home." Serath sighs. A sigh not without humour. The forlorn expression that it prompts soon flowing into a quirk of a smile that, though sadder than it was before the Raven ever arrived at Crown's Refuge, is familiar indeed. Gloved hands, shrouded in leather, swiftly move to check the strap of the quiver that rests upon his back, the clasp of the cloak that flows behind him, and then fall to rest upon the hilts of the much disliked Rapiers that sleep at his sides. And so, check complete, Serath pauses for a moment, looks for - and finds - his beloved Duchess, and moves to Vhramis's side to wait for her. The raven, in turn, makes sure to flutter from it's previous position atop Talus Kahar's House to land on Vhramis's shoulder before they depart, glancing at him with beady crimson eyes, before asking a question of the Ranger. Quoth the Raven: "CORN! CORN!" Theo trudges out from between couple of the buildings with a bulging pack thrown over his shoulder. His cheeks are flaming red and he has a rather confused look on his face. Theo has partially disconnected. Vhramis looks to the crow that perches on his shoulder, a sigh of his own escaping from his lips. "I'm sure he won't," he answers Serath, though from his resigned tone, it sounds like he fully expects it. "If I wasn't sure that the Chancellor wanted his bird back..." The threat isn't finished, as the bird most likely doesn't care anyway, it becomming fully engaged in trying to pull the black cloth back from the man's head to get free access to his ear. At the sound and sight of a rather large avian overhead, the kitten shrinks back into the safety of its pocket, shivering to itself. "I imagine that raven would taste much like pheasant on this chilled a tongue." Rowena breathes into the iced air, casting the feathered fiend upon the ranger's shoulder a smoldering look. "Let us feed it well with as much corn as it demands. I learned once how to wring a neck." Quoth the Duchess. Pausing once at Serath's side, Rowena adjusts the pack and blades so as to avoid being marked permanently by a pommel in the hip. When the discomfort is relieved, her eyes upturn with a knowing smile. "Home," She murmurs and rests a hand on his arm, "will be most grateful to see you safely returned. Even so, methinks that some years from now, when young Talus has grown, he will need a certain someone to roam as only he may roam, in safeguarding...that is if he wouldn't mind the accompaniment of a certain other." "Some years from now." The Prince of the Blood - or rather, just the Prince now - laments, speaking the words as if it was less of a statement than a sentence of punishment. No, it seems that running the realm of Fastheld is not high on Serath Kahar's list of dreams and desires. Still, putting the brief look of concern aside as quick as it arrives, he places a hand atop that which graces his arm, and offers Rowena a soft smile reserved for her alone. "I'd make some quip about how Vhramis can take care of himself, but I don't think the mood is suited for it." he purrs, falling silent as he considers something, and then merely nodding in answer to the Duchess's latter question. "I made a promise," he whispers, "I intend to keep it." Catching Rowena's gaze, he holds it for a few moments, watching her watching him... and then casts a look towards the somewhat neglected Theo. "Holding up alright?" The raven, meanwhile, abandons the task of attempting to remove Vhramis's ear from his head - hood or not - to spread it's wings high above it's head, offer a "quork" of a question to those around it, and then hop onto the Ranger's other shoulder in the hope of finding a second ear there, not covered by fabric. Of course, as the hood envelops both sides of Vhramis's head, the Raven's simple desire is forsaken. But it pecks anyway. "BIRD!" it caws. Theo starts as the voice calls over to him, blinking and questioning with a pointed finger at himself, "You mean me?" A split second later, realizing that by the simple fact the the Prince is looking straight at him he nods rather hurriedly in reply, "Er yes your Highness. I...yeah." He casts a quick look back at the buildings her just came from and smiles lopsidedly at himself. "I'll pluck your feathers out, one by one," Vhramis hisses to the attacking bird, waving a hand half-heartedly at the offending beak. Though the raven deftly dodges the strikes, apparently quite used to the Ranger's attempts to defend himself. ‘’A small gathering of townspeople begins to form, murmuring quietly to themselves and casting looks towards the group.’’ Rowena's hand slips stealthily away, the seraphite glow fading into the depths of her cloak. Turning her head away from the lagging bladesman, she looks into the mass of bodies gathering 'round to witness the departure. This would be as monumental a memory perhaps as the day that His Majesty first arrived for ages to come. What would come in the wake of the ranger's absence? Whatever that fate was to be, the indigenous guardians of this establishment would fight just as bravely, no doubt. Rowena cannot help but to feel a twinge of sadness for those left behind. Most of them she'd most likely ne'er meet again. But there is one little soul that her eyes cannot see within the crowd...She owed more than a silent goodbye to this one. Squinting into the darkness, she veers away from her companions, towards the townsfolk. Serath makes no move to follow nor deter Rowena from her intended farewells. Instead, the Prince steps aside to let her accomplish that which she is setting out to do, and in turn moves to look back upon Vhramis, granting the raven on the Ranger's shoulder a wary glance, waving Theo over. "I'm thinking that we should strike out through the Verdigris," he notes, mostly to Vhramis, "and then follow the Jadesnake back to Fastheld, avoiding the Snake Tangle and keeping a low profile all the way. That should also solve the problem of finding a place to get back through the Aegis at..." The Aegis. Serath falls silent for a moment in the wake of that name; the great wall seeming nothing more than a distant memory until this moment. Regardless, he dismisses the odd notion with a soft shake of his head, and continues. "Back through the Aegis at without having to spend the next year looking for a crack. It'll mean we'll add an extra week as we forsake the North Aegis to seek the Western face, but it'll be safer in the long run." Theo trudges over to the pair and starts to listen as Serath speaks of the plans their upcoming journey. He tries his best to focus on the task at hand but can't help but cast a few distracted glances back over his shoulder, a stupid smile coming to his face every time he does so. The low murmuring from the spectators hush as the Duchess draws near, many pairs of eyes falling onto her. One of the crowd steps aside, singling themselves out from the mass, in his arms a small sleeping burden. Chess waits with more than a little tension evident in his stance. "Mm?" Vhramis speaks in response to Serath, looking away from the bird for as long as he dares. "...yes, avoiding Snake Tangle would be preferable. The extra week shouldn't matter that much, and is worth it if we avoid trouble." Rowena's footfalls lapse into mirrored silence as she finds her mark at the crowd's outskirts. "You hold in your arms a blessing beyond any knowledge our dear Church may know in its nature. For these barriers of faith, I will mourn." With a voice as soft as gentle rain, the Healer averts her wizened eyes from father to child, and there her gaze so soundly rests. "There may come a day when this memory fades into time, as no voice lingers long when of a dream..." she whispers, head bowed to speak into slumber-tussled curls. "But may you come to remember when youth's innocence leaves you, all that it is your heart has kept safe. There are many who owe their lives to you, small one. There is much that I owe to you." Tipping her face aside, she reaches into the flap of her tunic to procure a most sacred payment. "So, south from here, through the Verdigris, out onto the Northern Fold. From there we'll be crossing over the Forsaken Lands." The Forsaken Lands: A name bestowed upon the region between the rolling plains and the Northern Fold, south of the Verdigris, and the Northern Aegis. A place that was one home to a dark and ominous forest that was razed to the ground by the unbridled wrath of the Sapphire Drake, Kalath'aria. Or so Serath was told, it seems, for the information as to what rests between Crown's Refuge and Fastheld has fast become common knowledge. "I don't really enjoy the idea of coming across Daggerford again, considering what happened the /last/ time we were there, but... unless we cross the Jadesnake to reach the western shore and the Uncharted Lands, I can't see how we can avoid it without removing all sources of food and water." A gloved hand moves to stroke the thin layer of stubble that rests upon Serath's features, the Prince following the layout of the map he speaks of that doesn't actually exist. "And I doubt that either of you want to visit Raven Rend. It wasn't the most welcoming of places..." Theo wrinkles his nose and nods as if he knows exactly what Serath is talking about. "Whatever you say your Highness." he rumbles. Chess listens intently to Rowena's words, the girl in his arms shifting a bit in her sleep. "...you can hold her if you want," he slowly tells the Duchess, watching her reach into her pocket. "Her name is Krisa." "Raven Rend? The name sounds agreeable at the moment," Vhramis answers solemnly, before grunting in a bit of pain as a beak manages to sneak in to nip at flesh. "There hasn't been any reports of wildling activity lately. They're still stinging, I believe." Rowena Mikin says, "I won't be long." Rowena murmurs to Chess with a sad smile, leaving the child to rest in his arms. "Krisa..." Emerging from her tunic is a small, lumpy object. Bits of wool-spun yarn, glassy bead, tufts of richly-colored velvet...It is a doll. Two years had passed since Light's Reach fell victim to ravaging flood. Two years since the orphaned doll had fallen into her hands. Two days since she'd mended it with bits of her own wardrobe and a fresh smudging of berry juice to the lips. She'd stitched a row of sun rays along the neckline, marking it permanently in prayer. A dear friend had once told her to pass it to another as a glimmer of the hope it long brought to its former owner. And so... "It is my wish that you will love this doll as much as it was loved by the little girl who made her." A slight tremor pauses her voice while she tucks the commemorating toy into the arms of its new companion. "So while in years to pass you may so forget me, she will remind you of the faith that will be needed by all. I tell you now that my memory shall serve us both, as I henceforth will remember not only you, but your people and your place." Retracting her hands, she plants a kiss of farewell to Krisa's crown. "And so I leave you now, young healer of Crown's Refuge." The Duchess straightens out, casting a measured stare of goodbye into the faces of those present, landing lastly upon Chess. "Fair well and keep faith." She tells him, then turns on heel to quietly trek back towards the men. Glistening wet christens her cheeks, however, so rather than joining them to discuss a travel route, she continues to move on ahead. A gaze of warm ice watches Rowena as she moves away from those that Serath at once fails to understand the importance of, and yet utterly comprehends the signification all the same, in equal measure. The Prince offers no words to the Duchess, as none will suffice. Merely, he looks upon Vhramis, and then Theo, and in a scuffle of leather and metallic buckles and straps, raises a clenched fist, spreads the fingers flat, and enacts a cleave motion forward; a silent command to move out, known by Rangers and Blades alike when silence is paramount. And so, without waiting for the others to follow, the Wildcat Prince pads swiftly after Rowena, eventually falling into step beside her, offering a soft smile of compassion, and continues ever on. A parting of silence, for where is the "good" in goodbye? Theo straightens and hefts the back on his shoulder. He smiles grimly and turns to look at the crowd. He raises his hand in a silent wave as he starts walking backwards in pursuit of the Duchess and Prince. This lasts until he almost trips over his feet. After a short flail to maintain balance he decides that walking forward might be more conducive to a dignafied departure. He spins and hurries on. The little girl makes a quiet sleepy noise, grasping the gifted doll and holding it tightly against herself. Chess brushes a hand across his face, not saying anything, and watches the departure with the rest of the crowd. A faint sigh and Vhramis turns to set after the Duchess and Prince, not looking back to the township. It would only make things more difficult. ---- 'Crown's Approach ' ---- ::The borderline between the ocean of forest known as Verdigris, and the sovereign hilltop township of Crown's Refuge, Crown's Approach is little more than an outpost that marks the divide between dense vegetation and the hill upon which Crown's Refuge has been established. ::A pebble stone trail leads from the forest depths to the outer palisade of the township beyond; a sentry maintained by the narrow yet otherwise sturdy and secure watchtower that has been built between the main gate of Crown's Refuge and the very edge of the Verdigris beyond, marking the line between natural and civilized Wildlands. ::The wooden watchtower, it should be noted, is at times "manned" by both Human and Wildling alike; the former to watch for wild animals that express a curiosity in the dealings of mankind, with the latter maintaining vigil in case of hostile Wildling attacks. ::One can head uphill along the path and towards the palisade of the township of Crown's Refuge itself, or travel further south into the wilds of the Verdigris beyond. A fork in the trail heads off to the east, coiling around the hill, leading to a fork in the trail known as the Crossroad. Finally, following the edge of the Verdigris to the southwest leads to an inlet of water along the coast of the Jadesnake known locally as the Stormtails. ---- "Where is it that we head from here?" Rowena finally inquires, voice clearing as they windle from the sight of those watching towards the Palisade gates. Her eyes remain focused firmly ahead, hands finding a place to grip around the straps of the pack. It hadn't *seemed* this heavy while coming from the boat. She ponders a reconsideration of her under garments while testing the freedom to expand that her ribs might have in the form of a few deep breaths. "South." Serath states, offering the most obvious answer as the one that's most likely to work as he keeps in step beside the Duchess, beaten and weatherworn cloak flowing in his wake, leather fluttering as a backdrop to the sounds of arrow fletching rustling in the quiver upon his back with every silent step. "Through the forest, following the lay of the river. We'll be passing by a local ruin known as the Drakespire Citadel. We can make camp there." He falls silent again, leaving nothing but the ambiance of the party and the wilds around them to speak for now, until a certain emotion gets the better of him, and warm ice is one again cast upon Rowena. "Are you alright, Row?" he whispers. Theo follows several paces behind the pair, head bowed and lost in some thought or another. He looks back to Vharamis after pondering something and asks quietly, "How long yah figure this will take?" Drakespire Citadel? Vhramis frowns deeply as he catches that, glancing to Theo as they walk. "Over a week. It's a ways off. But we'll be there soon enough. On the plus side, we're heading in the opposite direction of Ebonhold." "Ask that to a doe surrounded by wolves and you'll know my answer." Rowena breathes, bringing an end to her attempt at corset stretching. There'd be time to make adjustments at camp. Glancing to Serath with said doe's eyes, she feigns a smile. "But perhaps they'll not take note to our crossing. Still, I feel as though I rest beneath a behemoth looking glass." Lowering a hand from the pack, she reaches a finger inside the side pocket and rubs the kitten's chin in attempts to soothe its discomforts of the already bumpy ride. Serath can't help but smile at that analogy. It's one that prompts the Prince to cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the two Freelanders - such as they are, even if they're so much more - that trail behind the betrothed pair on point. "We have a dire wolf," he notes, looking back to Rowena as he offers an analogy of his own, "A Wildcat, a proud and noble Hawk, and... ah... I have no idea what Theo is. Maybe a Ferret." The Wildcat Prince shrugs, "Or a Mongoose or something. Timid, fluffy, yet give him half a chance and he'll take your face off." He sighs nevertheless, casting his gaze high towards the heavens, looking for any stars that might run the blockade of clouds that rest up there on this fateful night. "We make quite the menagerie, really." Theo sighs at Vhramis after he answers and looks beyond him in the direction of Crown's Refuge. He scowls for a split second, shakes it off and turns back to his half hearted trudge. It seems that the passenger on Vhramis' shoulder has finally settled down, the bird sitting mostly still aside from the occasional ruffling of its feathers, combined with brief preening. "Come on. Keep in step," the Ranger encourages Theo with a faint grin. "You're still a Blade, after all. Not officially resigned yet." "So long as the hawk does not consume the mongoose, nor the wildcat pounce the hawk, I suppose we shall fair as well as can be." Rowena murmurs, a tiny bit of mirth revealed in her lips' corner, having purposefully excused herself from that analogy. A nip of mischief to her finger spurs it quickly out of the pocket as the kit makes known his unhappiness. She folds her arms together and marches on, picking up the pace a bit with impatience to leave the tiny city behind. "I make no promises regarding Wildcats, Hawks, and the pouncing of the former onto the latter." Serath murmers in a mirror of the tone that Rowena used, casting a sly sidelong glance her way as he ever so slightly shifts his attention from the celestial sphere above, to the Duchess at his side. The ambient light from the hearth fires and watch torches of Crown's Refuge fade away into the darkness of a moonless night; the beacons of the night sky hidden behind ominous black clouds and dark silver wisps of cirrus. "No," Theo replies bluntly, "I quit. Don't think I could make it more clear." He hefts his pack and quickens his pace muttering, "Darn straight I did. Don't want no more of this nuthin and some such." "I think you'll get flogged a good amount for deserting," Vhramis points out to Theo with a downwards quirk of his mouth. "It'd probably be best to just say you're still one until you get back to Fastheld. Because I doubt our return is going to stay unnoticed for very long, hear me?" Catching the Prince's sly glance with a wise arch of her brow, Rowena chuckles, the sound muffled by the cold rush of air down her throat. "Let it be known then, that if the pouncing be turned to the wolf, she has fine teeth with which to defend." A cheshire smile bares them forth eerily in the faint radiation of blue from her folded hands 'gainst her breast. "But of course there shall be no objection to any sharing of den in this foul cold." The revealed 'fangs' chatter ever so quietly and so she seals her lips around them to keep in the warmth breath. Hearing the conversation behind turn to scolding, Rowena cocks her ear slightly in that direction. If she was to be kept alert and amused at this hour, there had to be *some* eavesdropping involved. Theo slows at Vhramis words, pondering them with a scowl. "Deserting huh?" he finally quips. He straightens and puffs out hsi chest a little, "Well maybe if that's how it'll be I should just here then." A knowing smile is the only answer that Serath needs to give Rowena, the shared mirth doing much to fend off the chill of Bleakdreary's winter hold of the Wildlands. Still, noticing his counterpart's subtle motion, and catching snippets of the conversation from behind, the Prince decides to go one better than merely eavesdrop. "I wouldn't worry too much, Vhram." Serath notes, all casual tones bathed in the embers of the warmth previously shared between Duchess and Prince, although a pained echo taints the words that follow after, barely noticeable, but there all the same. "I doubt the man he swore an oath for, and then broke that oath to, cares anymore." Shaking his head, Vhramis still looks slightly worried. "The Blademaster would still care... I remember seeing some of his temper. I doubt he'd be kind to it." The smile Rowena wore fades into grave neutrality at the reminder of Serath's words. "Such a promise falls as inheritance to his offspring, does it not? For all of he who ruled is passed to ownership of the first born son. Are words not simply one form of possession? I'm certain that the resignation may be discussed in lawful privacy with the Blademaster once we've returned and the young man time to think more clearly without worrying about the notion of Drake's fire or wildling breath at his back." Glancing behind only once as she refuses to break step, the healer offers a solemn plea. "There are long days ahead with no other company but our own. Let us remain as friends rather than sink into argument now." "I swear by the Light and by the Imperial Majesty of the Emperor, who should be worshipped by all of Fastheld, that I understand the glory of the duty that I am about to undertake, and the importance of the uniform I now call my own." Carried upon an assumed tone of Imperial Pride that rings as clear as crystal upon each crisply spoken word, the oath that Serath recites is that of the Emperor's Blades. An oath spoken with the full weight of Imperial Command that comes with being a Kahar, and with all the substance of a man who had ridden to war on more than one occasion with a host of warriors on his heels. "I swear to follow the orders of the Bladesmaster and his appointed deputies, the Captains and the officers of the Blades, with enthusiasm; to follow all laws set forth by the Imperial Crown of the people of Fastheld, on behalf of his Majesty the Emperor, never to desert, and not to shrink from death on behalf of the Light and the people of Fastheld." "My blood and my life are hereby given in service to the greater glory of the Crown, and while I still breathe I shall stand firm against the Shadow, until such time as my duty to the Light and the Emperor are fulfilled, or until I can no longer hold a weapon with which to strike against the darkness." It's obvious to those that know Serath well that there are subtle inflections within the adopted tone of voice that hint at a level of amusement that may be at Theo's expense. It probably doesn't help matters much that Serath is looking directly ahead as he continues to flawlessly recite the oath as if reading from a parchment or plaque. "Should I forsake this oath, then may Shadow take me, and may I fear the wrath of the sovereign Emperor, for I fully understand where my loyalty and duty rest, and by my oath and by my word, declare that I shall never abandon my Emperor, no matter what peril awaits. For the Emperor, for the Light, and for Fastheld, I will fear no darkness." He offers a solemn nod to Rowena as he finishes the recital, a wolfish smile caressing his features as he looks upon her, sparing not a glance back for Theo. Nor Vhramis, for that matter, but Vhramis isn't the issue. "I'm not sure where the promise falls, Row." he admits, "But what I am sure of, Theo..." *Theo* "...is that while you need not fear the wrath of the Sovereign Emperor - or his brother, for that matter - you might not want to be tempting fate with the whole "then Shadow take me" part. Considering where you are, where we're going, what's likely surrounding us, and who your main source of protection is." Theo blinks as the other two join the conversation, his expression growing ever more sullen as the prince goes through the oath. He kicks at the dirt a couple of times and hangs his head. Sniffing once quietly, "Well you never had no shadin' shadow beast almost eat yah. The shadow already took me. Made me come here in the first place." Vhramis' walk grounds to a halt at that, the man turning to peer at Theo, his eyes wide. The sudden pause in movement causes the crow to bob on his shoulder, making a cackle of protest. The man, meanwhile, can't think of anything to say. Rowena shivers, but not for lack of warmth. Twisting her neck 'round to stare at Theo upon stilled feet, her eyes turn fiery with tempered restraint. The longer she stares, however, the weaker the flames become, until all that is left is disappointment. "Wildlings don't waste time in consuming those they kill in war. So...I suppose there's some truth to those naively spoken words of ill gratitude." Frozen, she lapses again into silence, ears alone tracking the response, which there was with certainty to be *something*, of her twice-slain betrothed. "Which is to say nothing of Light's Reach." Spoken upon words too soft and too calm, Serath Kahar slows in time with the others who now regard the broken Bladesmen. Except that with him comes not only the voice of the Scion of the Imperial Line, but the ice blue gaze of the House Kahar. The eyes of the Emperor's blood. "Or Aegisport, or Daggerford, or the events of Marble Grove, or the battle of Hawk's Aerie, or the fall of Halo." He pauses, offers Vhramis and Rowena both a certain ominous glance, and then looks away again. He is the first to start to walk again, and his steps are as silent as the cold of that which is left unspoken. Theo stiffens as Serath addresses him. Fear overtaking his skinny body. He stops and stands without moving. Only his eyes flicker from one figure to the other. The conglomerate known as Vhraven stands in relative silence for a moment, before a sudden demand of "Corn!" turns it about, beginning to move on again as well. But not before first giving a pat to Theo's shoulder, and a gesture to continue on. ---- Return to Season 4 (2006) Category:Logs